Invasion of the Heart
by Saw-v1
Summary: The first time he saw her, she was fucking pissed. Enraged. Foaming at the mouth... She fascinated him. Little did he knew that she'd always fascinate him. UndertakerxOC. M for a reason.
1. AN & Disclaimer

**LONG ASSED AUTHOR NOTE** **:**

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 **Okay, so here is the thing: I've been planning to write an epic Taker/OC love story for years now. I have a lot of chunks of the story written pretty much everywhere and anywhere under the sun...even wrote on my own arm once... Note to self: never, ever, forget to bring your story notebook, you fucking idiot. How could you forget it anyway? You always carry it in your purse but that time, nooooo, you had to go and forget it and you ended up writing on your own arm in the bus and people were staring at you like you were crazy and...ahem...anyway...This is not the story you're about to read!**

 **Before I could get into the writing of this epic story, this plot bunny invaded my mind, getting comfy and refusing to leave... I hate bunnies, little fuckers pretend to be all cute and fluffy and end up eating all your furnitures if you let them... Here, my furnitures are actually the parts of my brain I could have focus on the writing of my epic...shit, I don't like repeating myself and I feel like I'm actually showing off by talking about an EPIC story - btw, epic as in fucking long, not pure awesomness, though you'll be the judges of that, if I ever get around to write it... - so there, here's what I'm gonna do: I'm gonna give you the initials of the title of this epic story and we're gonna use it, m'kay? It'll be better than repeating 'epic story' over and over again. So here it is...*Drumrolls*...TTY! Awesome, isn't it?**

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 **Actually... This epic story (shit, I did it again!) has two versions, two sides of the same coin if you will. I suppose it'd be better if I used both tittles (better for me, anyway, cause it's gonna piss me off not to mention half of the story...) So the initials of the other story are BTS! So that's what we're gonna use m'kay? Instead of writing 'epic story', I'll write TTY-BTS and you'll know what I'm talking about, right? RIGHT! So...**

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 **Where was I? Oh, yeah, I hate bunnies.**

 **No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't ignore It. It was always there, jumping around in my brain...It even talked to me during my sleep... For the briefest moment, I toyed with the idea of playing 'Shoot the bunny' but my sweetheart surprised me as I was about to do so and he wasn't really impressed...so instead I decided to simply give up and listen to It. And this story was born.**

 **It actually is some kind of AU of TTY-BTS. Well, not some kind...It IS an AU of TTY-BTS! I'll be using the same OC. They'll just meet at a different point in time. When this story comes to an end, the sequel will be in the continuation of TTY-BTS, see what I mean? Yeah, me neither. Let me try and give you a better explanation... This story takes place during the Invasion, in 2001, kinda obvious with the crappy title, no? Anyway, the Invasion will be dealt with in the other story as well, but whereas this story will die with the Invasion, TTY-BTS will continue afterward. And this will be the sequel to IOTH. Is that any clearer? I'm not sure, it's late, and I'm tired, and that fucking bunny ate half of my brain, so if you still don't get it, ask me and I'll do my best to clear things up.**

 **So yeah, IOTH is an AU of TTY-BTS so it'll be a running test as well. The thing is, as I've said once or twice (or was it ten times?), TTY-BTS will be fucking long and I guess it's a good thing that I'm actually writing this one first. So I'll see if you guys would be interested in reading TTY-BTS. So you guys have to let me know what you think of it, okay? This story will be finished, I can assure you that. I'll only take it down if I don't get any reaction at all, but I won't spent hours writing in a language that's not my own if no-one's gonna read me. You get my drift? You'll be the one deciding if I post TTY-BTS...**

 **A few other points:**

 **-I swear. A lot. I have a mouth to put a sailor to shame, and I'm not sorry about it. French or English, it doesn't matter, I use a colorful language. And I kiss my sweetheart with that potty mouth. And you know what? He loves it.**

 **-This story is rated M for a reason. Taker's gonna give some five stars lovin' to a lucky bitch. Yeah, she's a bitch. I hate her. And I really really want to be her, as well. But I'm not, so all's left is some good ol' hatred. But my point is...uh...ah, yeah, I remember. *Shakes finger*Don't read if you're not eighteen...**

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 **Yeah, I totally convinced you, right? I'm sure every underaged reader turned back when they saw my shaking finger... Or not. My point is, you really really shouldn't read that if you're not mature enough to grasp all the complexities of a consensual loving relationship... I'm thinking fifteen and under, I guess. If you think you're mature enough but the laws of your country disagree...don't tell me your age (I'd still love to read what you think of my story though)... I can live with a lot of things but not with the knowledge that I've led innocent children astray with tales of hot and sweaty bodies grinding against each other... Yeah, totally realistic right? More importantly though...Don't get caught... I'm sure your parents won't appreciate finding out that their babygirl (I'm assuming most if not all my readers will be female, correct me if I'm wrong!) read smut.**

 **-And on to my last point, I hope, English is not my first language, so I'm sure I could use a beta. If anyone's willing, drop me a PM... Gotta warn you, though, in case you haven't noticed, I'm kinda neurotic, and I have some stuff that need to be discussed before coming to a writer/beta agreement, so yeah, volunteer at your own risks.**

 **Oh, well lookie here, it wasn't my last point after all... One last thing, the WWE/WWF/WWC superstars belong to themselves and to their respective Federation. I just make up stories about them. Don't sue.**


	2. You're gonna pay

**So there you go, guys! Very first chapter! Hope you'll enjoy it!**

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 **-Chapter I: You're gonna pay-**

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– _**June 24, 2001 ~ King of the Ring –**_

The first time he saw her, she was fucking pissed. Enraged. Foaming at the mouth...

She fascinated him.

Little did he knew that she'd always fascinate him.

He was in the ring, minding his own business, celebrating his 'victory' over DDP. Or rather, watching Page running away like a coward after a few punches...son of a bitch went through the crowd, heading straight for the exit, without looking back. Not really good for his reputation, but oh well, with all the shit that had went down with the 'Monday Night Wars', the brainiacs of the Fed had wanted to make it clear that even the best of WCW wasn't worth the dirt on any WWF superstar's boots. Message sent.

It didn't bother him. He was sure the WCW would have done the same, had the tables been turned. It was to reassert the WWF's domination over the wrestling universe. The War had been on for years and now, finally, the WWF had won. Vince was a shrewed businessman, you had to give him that. And he'd led the Fed to victory. Well, that was the headline of all the specialized magasines, at least. If you'd asked Mark, he would have told you that the wrestlers had led the Fed to victory. Not Vince, not the bookers, but the guys who'd went into the ring, night after night, to fight and get their asses kicked. The guys who'd busted their asses to make Raw edgier, sexier and more violent, and anything else to try and win a few fans over every night. The guys who'd given birth to the Attitude Era. It was them who had led the Fed, them who had borne the whole business on their sore shoulders. But nobody had asked him. So he had kept his mouth shut. And he'd appreciated the fact that he was in the winning Fed. He'd appreciated the fact that he wasn't in Page's place.

He didn't really liked Page. Never did. Something in that man didn't sit right with him. He didn't knew what. He'd met him a few times through the years and he'd always felt wary of him. For no apparent reason, really. The man had never done anything to him. But even so, he'd always kept their encounters as brief as possible. He felt there was something deeply wrong with Page. An undercurrent of...something.

So he'd hesitated for a long time when Vince had come to him with the 'stalker' angle. They'd had a lot of discussions about it. He didn't get why Vince thought it would be a good idea. Well, he understood the appeal of any wrestler coming after the Undertaker to make a name for themselves. Let's be realistic, he was at the top of the foodchain. But why involving Sara? There were other ways to goad him into a fight. Other ways to get the Taker mad. Even if family had to be involved, why not Kane? Another wrestler, who knew the job and its implications... Family ties would have been at stake as well. But Vince had been adamant, he'd wanted Sara.

Sara had been adamant as well. She'd wanted to do it. She'd said she'd have a good reason to travel with him that way, and it had made him cringe inwardly. Part of the appeal of this job - tiny part, the biggest one being the ability to beat people to his heart's content - was the long hours on the road, without her. He wasn't the most romantic guy and the idea of spending all his time with his woman didn't appealed to him. Not one bit. He liked the way things were. He was absent for weeks at time before coming back home for a few days. Those days were therefore pretty much spent fucking, with a bit of eating and sleeping in between. No long conversations – hard to talk with a mouthful –, no romantic dinner – pizza was always the way to go –, no long walks on the beach. None of this supposedly romantic shit he saw on TV. Just two bodies, seeking release in each other.

He'd already been pissed enough when he'd come home one day to find out that she'd moved into his ranch. He should have never given her the keys. He liked his privacy. That was the reason why his ranch was smacked in the middle of nowhere, well in the middle of his huge land on the outskirts of Houston, Texas. He'd put fences all around it, put a camera at the gate, so that he'd always knew who was coming and could pretend to be out if he didn't wanted to see them. He'd done it to Sara once or twice, when he wasn't in the mood to deal with her shit, so seeing her waiting with an expectant smile when he'd come home, exhausted after long hours spent on the road, had pretty much drove him ballistic. He'd been all about kicking her out, ignoring her excuses of 'rent went up', 'couldn't afford the place anymore' before seeing the attraction in it. He wouldn't have to wait any longer to fuck her and the place would be clean when he got home so he wouldn't have to do it himself. Besides, it'd keep her happy, he'd reasoned and despite everything, she was his woman and he had to make her happy. That was the way things were.

But even if he had to make her happy, the idea of having her with him on the roads, all day, every day didn't appealed to him one bit. They'd never spent so much time together and he was sure they would get on each other nerves. He wasn't the easiest guy to live with and even if she put up with him when he was home, he wondered if she still would on the roads. He was pretty sure he'd already be pissed off by the end of their first trip together so he didn't wondered about his reactions, but he did about hers.

Therefore he'd refused at first, quite adamantly himself, both to Vince and to her. He didn't wanted her involved in a shady story like that, he'd told them – so sincerely playing the worried boyfriend he'd thought he deserved an Oscar –, it was way too creepy. He was worried about what this life would do to her, he'd then tried, when it hadn't worked. What if she was hurt during a segment? Accidents did happen after all! What about her family and friends? Was she willing to spend such a long time away from them? She was much more a social butterfly than he was. He was sure she needed the people she loved around her, not a bunch of crude, perverted guys. He wanted to keep his private life and his professionnal life separated. He didn't wanted her in the eyes of the medias, in the eyes of the fans.

But Vince and her had brushed away each and every one of his arguments. It was just acting. They'd done much worse before – like that dark wedding ceremony with Stephanie. Life on the roads would be fine, she'd be with him. She was just there to be by his side, no reason for her to ever be hurt. She had her phone, she'd call her family and friends every day. The guys feared him too much to disrespect her. She was just showing up in the arenas, not inviting fans in their home. It's not like he was a huge rock star, people didn't care about their relationship.

It'd pissed him off. The way they'd both shot down his arguments. More than once, he'd wondered if they didn't meet behind his back to discuss what he could come up with, so good they were at countering him. Why was it so hard for them both to understand that he didn't wanted to do it? Why was Sara so adamant? Vince he could understand, the man was always coming up with the most outrageous ideas for the business. Remnants of years passed making everyone do the most provoking things he could think of, desperatly trying to get up in the ratings, desperatly trying to keep his family company afloat. It would pass, he knew. Eventually, when no one else rose to challenge the Fed, and Mark knew no one would ever be able to challenge the Fed like Bischoff's WCW did, he would settle down, calm down, and turn his attention toward a bigger audience. He had a feeling things would become tamer after a while. He wasn't sure how he felt about that, but he knew he'd still be there. His loyalty to the Fed knew pratically no bound.

And in the end, that's why he'd decided to give it a go, forgetting all his questions about why Sara was so adamant. It wasn't like he actually gave a fuck about her motivations. And more importantly, it wasn't like he hadn't already gave everything else he had to the business: his blood, his sweat, his tears... His fucking body and his best years. Why not his girlfriend? Just another thing to add to the list.

So he'd given his okay to get Sara involved – on the condition that she only joined him on the days a segment involving her was planned and didn't travel with him full time ("I don't want you separated from the people you love any longer than you have to. I know how much it would hurt you and I don't want that!" _Yeah. Right!_ ) –, and now he was playing the enraged husband. Even if they weren't actually married. Yet. Sara'd been hinting at wanting to get married. He wasn't impressed. The idea of tying himself to...anyone, really, didn't make him feel all warm and fuzzy. It would be more of a fucking hindrance for him than anything else... Still, he had to keep the lady happy, so he'd said he'd think about it.

It was placating her. For now.

Maybe when the fucking Invasion angle would be over, he'd give more thoughts about it...If he had time. He was quite sure he'd be busy, though. Too fucking bad.

The crowd was cheering for him. Sara was at his side, with the fucking camera she'd carried everywhere all day. Mind games. He was known for that. Another way to screw with peoples. He loved it. She briefly turned toward him and he winked at her, in front of the others cameras, for the show. Always the show. She then turned toward DDP again and he heard her gasp. Looking up, he saw her...

Fucking perfection in action.

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 **Here you go! How's that for a prologue? Mark's quite an ass, isn't he? :D**

 **I really would like to know what you think about it and if you'd like me to continue. As I've said, the whole idea is to get your opinion on it and on the eventual other stories I have in mind. So you have to let me know! Worth it?**


End file.
